Conquered
by clarkoholic
Summary: Clark and his parents try to cope with the emotional aftermath of his captivity. Lionel is not one to sit idly by. He's got a plan. Sequel to Phoenix Dying.
1. Prologue

This is the sequel to Phoenix Dying. Not completely necessary to read PD first but it will help. I will probably update weekly so keep a look out for it. Oh, this is half Rumpuso's fiction too. It's her ideas and my writing.

Please read and review. Thanks and enjoy!

Prologue

Clark stood several yards from the lush embankment surrounding Crater Lake. He noticed just how beautiful and peaceful this area was as the sun had begun its descent from the sky. The water shimmered with the sun's reflection and he looked to the sky to compare the sun with its picture mirrored on the water. He noticed the clouds had a red hue surrounding them and turned to Jonathan who stood near. In unison, father and son chanted the familiar sailor's mantra his dad had taught him years ago, "Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky in the morning, sailor's take warning." They both chuckled then turned their attention back to the beautiful sunset over the water. Tomorrow was shaping up to be a beautiful day if that old phrase was correct. Clark couldn't remember a time when he felt happier.

The sun became masked behind the trees surrounding the lake and Clark took several steps closer to the water to bring the sunset back into view. He felt Jonathan's hand on his arm stop him, "Son, you know you can't get closer to the water. There are meteors all around the embankment."

Clark looked ahead and nodded, "I see them dad. I just want to watch the sun sizzle in the water."

Jonathan smiled, "Ok son, just be careful how close you get." Clark smiled back and moved forward slowly, stopping several feet away from the embankment.

Suddenly a loud rustling could be heard from behind them. Out of the woods ran two men swinging large sticks. Clark twirled around, his eyes large, filled with dread, "Dad!" he shouted.

Jonathan's face bunched up with fear as he watched the two men run full speed at Clark. He noticed an intricate cross design on the face of the shorter of the two men as they ran past him towards his son. "Clark!" he called out in warning.

Their sticks were raised high over their heads as they bore down on Clark. Clark was prepared to deflect their advance but was caught off guard as he was knocked backwards on top of a pile of glowing kryptonite. He drew in his breath sharply and yelled out in pain. He looked on in horror as he was assaulted over and over with the sticks, until he heard a crack in his wrist. "Help me dad!" he yelled out, desperate for a reprieve.

"I can't son! You need to figure this out on your own!"

Clark blinked, trying to clear his head to make certain he heard his father correctly. Over and over the sticks savagely beat him. He felt his lip split open and the blood trickle down his mouth past his chin. He felt his back burning from the intensity of the punishing rocks that served as his bed. Then he felt a forceful kick to his abdomen, causing him to lurch over in pain. He gasped and tried to protect his face, "Dad, please! Help me!" he begged, looking up from his assault and noticed his dad just standing there, watching him with tears in his eyes.

"I love you son!" Jonathan responded and turned to walk away with his head down in shame.

Clark reached his arm out as far as he could manage and in a choked gasp cried, "D-dad! Don't leave me!" as tears streamed down his face. He buried his head in his outstretched arm just as he received a grueling crack on the back of his head from the tall man wielding the stick and a kick to his broken wrist from the cross-faced man in front of him.

The blows stopped and after a moment Clark looked up to find Lionel Luthor kneeling before him, "Mr. Kent, just like I told you, it seems no one is out to rescue you," then he leaned back on his heels laughing viciously.

* * *

Clark shot up from his bed; his chest and head soaked with sweat; tears streaming down his face "Don't leave me Dad! Please!" he shouted hoarsely while desperately reaching out towards a vision that did not exist. His chest heaved with exertion from his despair. He heard his name from afar as his door banged open and his eyes went wild. His head snapped in the direction of the door, "No!" and he leaned forward to run from this invasion but only succeeded in rolling off the bed in a tangle of sheets as tears poured silently from his eyes. He held onto his wrist and cradled it against his chest; he lowered his head and sobbed, "Dad, why did you leave me?"

Jonathan and Martha were instantly by his side, kneeling down, sandwiching him between them as they each reached an arm around to envelope him in a giant hug. Martha's tears were silent, while Jonathan hiccupped as he tried to control his emotions. The parents silently looked into each other's eyes until they felt Clark's shaking quiet and his tears come to a halt, until there was nothing more than the quiet sounds of the Kent family breathing in unison.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Martha stood on the second step of the kitchen staircase, holding onto the banister as she called Clark down for breakfast. Then she silently listened to make sure he was up. She could hear his uneven, sluggish movements coming from his room above. Clark's body had healed almost completely but she was concerned because he was emotionally fragile and extremely underweight. Her motherly instincts insisted she should help him get dressed, but she and Jonathan had decided that Clark needed some independence in order for him to regain his self esteem. She quickly scurried back to the kitchen when she heard him nearing the stairs. She couldn't help but think that he sounded like an old man coming downstairs, not her son. She heard the guardrail creak and figured he must be relying heavily upon it to balance himself as he made his descent down the stairs. She quickly busied herself at the sink so Clark wouldn't think she was hovering over his every move.

He reached the bottom step, "Morning Mom," he said in a monotone voice and gave her a smile that didn't quite reach his haunted eyes.

She turned around to face him, "Good morning, Sweetheart. Did you sleep well?"

Clark hesitated before putting on a perfectly unbelievable fake smile, "Yeah," he lied. The truth was he hadn't slept much at all that week. After a few nights of nightmares he decided to stay awake as long as possible. He would try to read or sneak downstairs to watch television but mostly he sat in his room and stared at the wall, trying to keep his mind clear of unwanted thoughts. As Clark stood near the dining table, a feeling of awkwardness washed over him, it had been the norm since his return a week ago. He didn't feel 'at home' or a sense of belonging with his parents. He couldn't shake his inner feeling of loneliness.

The kitchen door swung open and Jonathan walked in from the porch, "Morning" he said with a smile. Clark immediately straightened his posture, almost as a soldier would for his General. Jonathan was heartbroken to watch his son react to him in this way, yet he knew this behavior was stemming from Clark's feelings of abandonment, so he didn't want to make Clark feel worse by calling attention to it.

"How are you feeling today, son?"

With his head down Clark quietly replied a simple, "Okay."

"Good," Jonathan replied then went to Martha for a good morning kiss.

Clark couldn't watch his parents; he couldn't look at his father. He felt so volatile still that he felt he might break down at any given moment. So he sat down at the table and stared vacantly ahead while he waited for them to join him. Martha could see his discomfort and grabbed hold of his hand underneath the table to give it a gentle squeeze. Clark lowered his head. He felt ashamed and couldn't wait for breakfast to be finished so he could go to his loft and be alone.

They all remained unusually quiet while they ate; each lost in their own thoughts. Clark tried to steady his hands from shaking too hard when using his utensils and he chewed slowly, fearing that his food would come back up. He hadn't been able to keep much down and was tired of showing such weakness in front of his parents. Feeling his stomach protest in a rumble he asked, "May I be excused?"

"You've hardly eaten anything," Martha said, glancing at his plate, "I think you should try to eat some…"

"No" Clark cut her off, "I'm sorry…I just…I can't eat anymore."

Martha glanced with concern at Jonathan and he gave her a nod, as if to say 'go ahead'. She turned her attention back to Clark, who was still staring at his plate. "Sweetheart, your father and I have discussed it and we think it would help if you told us what happened." She put her hand over his and squeezed, "I know it will be difficult for you to talk about, but we think that in order for you to heal in here…" she reached her other hand over and laid it against his heart, "…you'll need to unburden yourself first. We can help you work through this; we love you."

Clark lowered his head down and closed his eyes. He swallowed repeatedly. His parents watched as his Adam's apple frantically danced inside his throat. The silence around the table was deafening. His Dad cleared his throat, "Clark…"

"No!" Clark's head shot up, "I'm not ready. Don't pressure me." His eyes were frightened and angry. His voice was firm, perhaps too firm.

His parents glanced at one another, surprised over their son's reaction. Martha removed her hand away from Clark's. She didn't want to appear to be pushing him to speak.

Silence returned to the room. No one was sure what to say next. Clark found a spot on the table and focused his gaze; escaping to some far distant place within his mind. His body shook as he was clearly trying to collect himself. Finally, he sighed. He sighed as though it were coming from deep within his soul. When he looked up at his parents, they were startled to see the depth of his anguish. His eyes glistened, "I'm so sorry. It's just…that…you really don't need…I mean…it's best if we let that stay buried." He looked back and forth at both his parents; guilt washed over him and he was hoping for some measure of redemption on their faces.

Jonathan's heart broke as his son chose to suffer silently rather than share the burden of his pain with them. Even in this tumultuous situation, Clark chose to protect his family over himself. Jonathan rose from his chair and moved to kneel down beside Clark, placing his hand on his back, "Son, you don't need to protect your mother and I. It is our job to protect you." Clark briefly leveled him with an accusatory glance before his eyes returned to the table. "We need to know who did this to you so we might prevent it from ever happening again."

Clark rose quickly from his chair, tipping it backwards in his rush. He clenched and unclenched his fists; "You can't protect me from Lionel Luthor! No one can!" He looked to both of his parents as the true horror his situation washed over them. His mom had her hand over her mouth as if she tried to suppress a scream and his dad's eyes flashed with unrestrained anger. Jonathan rose from his kneeling position and stormed to the door. He turned just once in Clark's direction before leaving the house. The look he gave Clark was unidentifiable but Clark understood it as 'disgust'.

Clark looked to his mother whose face was now covered in tears. He felt vulnerable and exposed and once again had been abandoned by his father. Martha just shook her head as tears ran in streams down her face. She couldn't speak, her horror to great. They watched each other, both at a loss for the right thing to say. She reached out her arms to draw him into a hug but he didn't feel worthy and turned away from her to leave the house. He needed the security of his loft where he didn't have to face his feelings of self worth. He could just exist without thought.

* * *

The two men walked warily through the halls of LuthorCorp, talking quietly, "What do you think Mr. Luthor is gonna do to us?"

"He was beyond pissed that this happened in the first place. Once he finds out that we can't even find that son of a bitch doctor, there's no tellin' what he'll do." They reached a petite woman sitting behind a large desk, feverishly typing. "Ah hem," she looked at him, "Mr. Luthor is expecting us."

She nodded and spoke through her headpiece intercom to Lionel, "Yes sir." She looked at the men "Mr. Luthor will see you now."

They walked down the hall and through the glass doors. Lionel stood with his back to them, gazing at the Metropolis skyline. He turned around slowly, his fury evident and as of yet unleashed. The two men struggled to remain standing as their instincts screamed for them to turn and run. It had been exactly one week ago that Clark had escaped with the help of Logan. Not only was Lionel infuriated from losing his 'prized possession' but he also felt betrayed by Logan. In his mind, he gave Logan his career, he paid for his schooling, gave him the best of the best, and this is how he was repaid. He walked forward to the men and coldly said, "Well?"

The larger man cleared his throat, "Uh, Mr. Luthor we searched everywhere but it's like he just dropped off the face of the earth."

"Did you check all overseas flights?"

"Yes sir, if he took one it must have been under a pseudonym."

Lionel sighed, "Keep checking. I want him found," he concluded with an unmistakable undercurrent of hostility not to be misunderstood.

"Yes sir." The men left, relieved that they had one more chance to redeem themselves.

Lionel returned his gaze to the skyline. With his lips pursed in a thin line, he took a deep breath and whispered with disgust, "Lex."

After a moment of thought he turned back to his desk and dialed a number on his phone. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the desk as he awaited an answer on the other end. When the call was picked up, he spat out, "David, I want those reports on Mr. Kent's stay in Smallville on my desk in an hour. No exceptions."

* * *

Clark loved being outside in the fields on days like today. The sun was high in the sky, surrounded by white puffy clouds floating by in the gentle breeze. His senses delighted in the smell and feel of the autumn air. He stopped for a moment and took a large breath of fresh air in, filling his lungs, and then continued on to the spot he had settled on in the field for his task today. He easily carried the two four by fours under one arm and a box of nails in the other while he trucked across the field. He decided to do this chore without speed, wanting to enjoy the day. His thoughts were on his parents as he neared the scarecrow's new home. They had been so supportive throughout his recovery over the past month since he came home. But despite all of their support he was still afraid to feel content in his life again. Lionel's words stuck with him and he felt guilty every time he looked into his father's face. His dad barely spoke to him anymore and his usual easygoing temperament had changed into one of constant irritability. Clark felt as though he had been reduced to nothing more than a burden in his father's eyes. He could feel the tension between his parents and felt responsible for it, but didn't know how he could fix it. And yet, through all of his apprehensions, he still felt thankful that he at least had a 'home' to come to after his ordeal. His stomach churned every time he thought about being taken again yet he couldn't help but wonder why Lionel had left him alone since he returned home.

He stopped in the middle of the vast field and dropped the wooden posts. He sat the box of nails next to them and took the taller post in his hands. He held it up in the air and then slammed it into the ground, driving it down as far as needed. He picked out a handful of nails from the box and placed them in his pocket, then leaned down and picked up the remaining four by four and placed it crosswise against the other post. As he connected the posts together with the nails, he thought about Lex, wondering if he'd ever feel comfortable around his friend again. Lex tried to visit him on several occasions since he came home but each time Clark refused to see him. Lex had always been a good friend but he couldn't shake the 'guilty by association' feeling. No matter how many times he told himself that Lex was his friend and would never hurt him, the fact was, Lex was still Lionel's son.

He drove the last nail into the wood and stood back, brushing his hands together and admiring his work. Seeing the empty cross without its scarecrow gave him a slight shiver. It reminded him of the cross he had been strung up on a few years back. He shook his head to erase the humiliation that was crawling up his spine and gave his creation one last look, picked up the box of nails and headed back towards the farm.

After a quick pit stop at the barn to put away the nails, he went straight to the house so he could clean up and grab a snack. Just as he reached the porch he heard the muffled voices of his parents having what appeared to be a heated conversation from somewhere deep inside the house. He hesitated, not wanting to intrude, and began to turn back around when he was stopped by the mention of his name. He curiosity was peaked, so he turned back again to listen. He was taken aback by the angry tone in their voices but leaned in closer to the door and heard his father say, "I can barely look at him without feeling disgusted!" Clark jerked back, in shock, with his mouth hanging open. Confusion was beginning to set in and he wanted to sneak inside to get a little closer so he could hear more clearly but didn't want to risk getting caught eavesdropping.

His mother replied, "Well you need to get over that feeling for you son's sake." Clark's eyes were glazing over; he turned his head and swallowed. His breathing began to grow louder as he felt his feelings becoming raw. He missed something that was said and turned back once more to listen, "Martha it takes all I have to prevent myself from killing him." Because of him, his father now had the urge to kill. Guilt tightened his throat and his chest pounded. He turned to leave the porch but hesitated when he faintly heard, "Every time I look at Clark, I see Lionel Luthor. I see what he did to our son and I can't take it." He heard his mother's muffled cries as he took a step down the stairs; his feet felt like bricks. He grabbed onto the banister, trying to balance himself. He turned his head back to the door with a pained expression and listened one last time, "I know it's not Clark's fault, Martha. And I know it's not healthy for this family but I'm just going to have to avoid Clark until I can get control of these feelings."

Clark walked slowly down the remaining stairs and away from the porch with his head hung low. Lionel was right. His parents only saw him as a burden. He felt sick as he considered the possibility of being forced to leave his home.

He reached his loft and sat down on his couch. His loft was his sanctuary. When the world shunned him, he could go there and feel a sense of belonging, feel comfort and safety. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and rocked. He thought about why he was sent to Earth. Why had he been sent here if he was so disgusting? He wished Jor El had just left him on Krypton where he could have died with the rest of his people. At least then he would have belonged, he wouldn't be thought of as a burden. He felt so alone as he stared ahead in dumbfounded silence. He couldn't leave his home and face the likes of Lionel Luthor again. He had to prove to his parents that he was worthy to stay, worthy to be their son. He pulled his knees to his chest and laid down on his side. He closed his eyes, praying that he wouldn't have another recurring nightmare. He was so exhausted and wanted just one moment of blissful rest.


	3. Chapter 2

Thank You to everyone for their replies! It helps when trying to write the next chapter!

* * *

Chapter 2 

"Clark, Lex called while you were showering. He's on his way over now, he said he has something he wants to give you." Clark froze at the bottom step. Martha could see signs of fear wash over Clark at the mention of Lex's name. "Sweetheart, I know you think you're not ready to see Lex but it's been almost two months now," she spoke with concern. "He's not like his father and in your heart I think you know that. He's very concerned about you; he has been since this all began. I truly believe that Lex had nothing to do with what his father did. Just remember that they are two separate people." Clark remained quiet. "Why don't you give him a chance? He's always been a good friend to you sweetheart."

Clark calmly nodded his head in understanding. He'd only spoken with Lex briefly over the phone since his return, but the thought of coming face to face panicked him. "Does dad know he's coming over?"

Martha sighed, "Yes, but he decided to take this opportunity to head into town for some supplies."

"Oh," he was relieved to know that there wouldn't be a confrontation between the two but a part of him wanted the security of his father being close while he met with Lex. "I'll be in the barn," he said as he flashed a smile and headed out the kitchen door.

Clark felt victim to a guilt trip as he walked towards the barn. He told himself that he shouldn't continue to want things from Jonathan when Jonathan had made it clear through his actions that he could no longer love him as he used to. Jonathan had hardly spoken to or looked at him over the last two months. Whenever he did speak to him, it was overly polite pleasantries but Clark could feel the emptiness in his words. He longed for the days when his dad would fill him with words of wisdom and comfort. He wanted to feel a sense of belonging in his family, not like a burden. He racked his brain daily to find ways to change his father's opinion of him, to make it so his father could love him again.

He reached his loft and looked around, noticing a few things out of their places. He knew it was silly but he felt the need to make his space presentable for Lex's visit. So he folded and refolded a throw blanket before neatly laying it over the arm of the couch. He straightened his desk and stacked all of his books in order on the bookshelf, tallest to shortest. Just as he finished stacking his books he heard the roar of a sports car pull into the drive. He walked to the window and watched Lex exit his car and walk to the house. Martha answered the door and gave Lex a welcoming hug and smile. After their brief exchange of words, Lex turned and started walking towards the barn; Clark's heart started pounding. He backed away from the window and nervously glanced around the loft, noticing how neat and tidy it was. Everything was in its place and clean…for a barn. He heard Lex call his name from downstairs. His chest pounded harder and his breathing picked up so much that he started to feel dizzy so he quickly sat down on the couch and buried his face in his hands. He tried to compose himself and took slow breaths to calm his rapid breathing. He could hear Lex's steps nearing on the staircase so he took his hands away from his face and clasped them together while taking one last deep breath to relax his nerves.

Lex reached the top and took a few steps into the loft, "Hi Clark" he greeted with a warm smile.

Clark lifted his head, smiled, "Lex. Hi" his façade was good but his eyes gave his fear away.

Lex took a few more steps and Clark gripped the edge of the couch, trying to hide his trembling hands. Lex took notice of Clark's nervousness, "It's good to see you, Clark. I've been worried about you."

He smiled and stood, "It's good to see you too, Lex."

Lex walked closer, "I was happy to hear that you returned home safely, I was quite concerned for a while there."

Lex noticed Clark begin to panic as he drew nearer. Clark tried to step back, away from Lex, but was stopped by the couch at his heels. He turned his head from side to side, looking for more room to move as he spoke, "Uh, yeah it's good to be home," he said tensely.

Lex stopped, taking pity as Clark looked like a caged animal and remembered Logan's words to him from months back, I _"He's an innocent kid, caught up in an act so heinous that I could no longer bear to be associated with it."_ /I He paused, waiting for Clark's tension to ease a bit, then continued, "So Clark, where were you?"

"Um, I…what?"

"Where were you hiding out all of those months?"

"Oh, well…I was in Metropolis" gulp, "I…uh, just needed to be alone…to think some things through."

Lex was not a stupid man. He could easily tell when he was being lied to; especially when Clark lied to him. Although he tried it often, Clark had never been good at lying and it was evident now by his nervous fidgeting with the bottom of his shirt. He inwardly sighed. He had hoped he would be able to draw the truth from Clark. Obviously that was not going to happen today so he changed the subject, "Well, I brought you something I think you'll appreciate." He pulled a small black pager from his pocket and held it out. Clark looked at it hesitantly before taking it. "It's specially designed so that when you press the red button it will immediately get in touch with me. Anytime, day or night." Lex could see that Clark still didn't understand by his expression so he calmly explained, "Clark, I understand what it's like to have your security snatched out from under you and how lost that can make you feel." He gave Clark a compassionate, yet I _knowing_ /I look, "I wanted you to know that you can call me anytime you need someone to talk to or merely listen."

Clark swallowed, "Thanks Lex," and he turned away as he slipped the pager into his jeans pocket. He began to feel overwhelmed that his friend, a Luthor no less, might be the only person who could see him through this. His fear of Lex had begun to lessen and he finally saw Lex for what he was, a friend. He wasn't out to hurt him or turn him back over to Lionel. Clark turned back around, "I'm glad you stopped by."

"Me too," he smiled, "but I better be going. I've got some business to take care of." He walked to the stairs but turned back, "Remember Clark, anytime, day or night."

Clark nodded and smiled back. He watched as Lex left the barn and drove out of the driveway and down the road. He was glad that he faced his fears of seeing Lex and that he had his friend again. He hadn't spent much time with any of his friends since he returned home. Everyone, except for Chloe of course, had stopped asking him questions of his disappearance but he was still uncomfortable around them. They all could see the change in him but were oblivious to the real reason. As far as they were concerned, he had just decided to leave home again to run free in Metropolis. His mother thought it would be good for him to tell Pete the truth but aside from Jonathan's disapproval, Clark just didn't want to. It was hard enough to think about what had happened, let alone tell his best friend. With Lex's visit turning out well he finally felt that maybe he could start going out again. He had wanted to start going out more but every time he left the farm, anxiety ate away at him. He was terrified that he would be abducted again or that he would run into Lionel around town. So he spent most of his days like he did today. He did his chores and spent the rest of his time in his loft, escaping from the world and his problems in books.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set as Clark walked back to the house from his loft. He pulled the pager from his pocket and squeezed it with a smile. He was happy that Lex offered to help him heal. He walked through the kitchen door to find both his parents fixing dinner. Martha looked at Clark, "How did your visit with Lex go, sweetheart?" 

Clark smiled brightly, "Great actually," he gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Jonathan smiled and glanced down at the pager Clark was holding, "What's that you got there, son?"

"Oh," Clark held up the pager, "Lex gave it to me, so I would never feel alone."

Jonathan gave Clark an approving nod and smile, "Well, dinner will be ready in thirty minutes, go on upstairs and get cleaned up."

Clark smiled and skipped up the stairs to his room, feeling very happy at today's developments. He placed the pager on his desk and sat down in front of it. He felt the urge to press the red button and wondered if Lex would be mad if he just tested it. He pushed his doubts away and decided to give it a try. He depressed the red button and sat back in his chair waiting for the expected phone call. Almost instantly he heard the sound of two car doors open and then slam shut. He could see the beams from the headlights shining through his curtains. He got up and pulled them back and saw Lex walking up the stairs to the porch, following a figure, but Clark could not see who the figure was. "Wow that was fast," he mumbled to himself as he left his bedroom and went down the stairs. There was a knock on the front door, "I'll get it," he said as he passed his parents who were still preparing their evening meal. He opened the front door and his heart nearly stopped beating from shock.

Lionel Luthor stood in the center of the door with Lex beside him. Lionel held a large piece of refined kryptonite in front of him causing Clark to stumbled backwards and fall to the floor, landing with a thud on his bottom. Lionel stepped inside the doorway, grinning widely, "Good evening Mr. Kent. I missed you. I'm so happy you decided to invite me over."

Clark looked to Lex, who was standing in the doorway smiling. Through the fierce pain in his chest he gasped out, "Lex…why?" And in response, Lex took the bar of kryptonite from his father and swung it, smashing it into Clark's cheek, causing him to scream out and fall backwards. Clark reflexively put his hand to his cheek and he winced as he touched the tender spot. He tasted blood and felt something in the pool of blood in his mouth. He spat onto the rug and with the blood came a few of his now broken teeth. He could hear Lionel laughing, his mouth was numb with pain but he managed to call out, "Mom! Dad! Help me! Please!"

They remained in the kitchen and Jonathan simply replied, "We can't Clark. We're cooking dinner right now. You have to work this out on your own."

Clark struggled to breath as the pain elevated in his chest. He couldn't believe he heard his father correctly. He felt so betrayed by both his parents and Lex. He grimaced as he tried to sit up. Looking back to the door he saw the two men who had kidnapped him so many months ago walking towards him. Clark tried to back away but couldn't find the strength to move. The man with a detailed cross design on his cheek stepped forward and pulled his foot back. He slammed his boot down with full force at Clark's left wrist, breaking it instantly. Clark wailed and instinctively tried to cradle his wrist to his chest. The taller man knelt next to Clark and held his shoulders down so that he couldn't move. 'Cross face' leaned over and punched Clark several times until he was seeing stars. Then the men moved beside him and held his arms firmly down at his sides. Clark's head lulled as he tried to clear his vision. He struggled against the men but they only tightened their grips, bruising his arms. His vision was still blurry but he could see Lex leaning down over him with a smug expression plastered on his face. Lex ripped open his shirt and shoved the kryptonite bar onto his chest, taping it in place. Clark's eyes widened and he groaned as the pain intensified. His chest heaved as he tried to breathe through his collapsing lungs. He cried out a choked gasp, "Dad, please! It hurts!"

From the kitchen he heard his dad reply, "I know Kal El. Be brave. You must figure this out on your own."

His breathing became erratic as he could feel the kryptonite burning through his chest. Lionel snapped his fingers in Clark's face to gain his attention, "I just need a few more skin samples from you Mr. Kent. Then we will move you to your new location." He held a sharp green, glowing knife to Clark's cheek and slid it down, slicing a thin line, grinning all the while. Clark screamed as the knife cut into his skin, he could feel his blood streaking down his cheek. Lionel held the knife in Clark's view and put his finger to his mouth, "Shh, Clark. Its just a few samples, there is no need to panic."

Lionel lowered the knife to his abdomen and Clark screamed out his fear, "Mom! Please! Help me!"

Faintly, he could hear his mom crying as she answered him, "I'm here sweetheart. It's okay." Clark bellowed out his pain as the knife began to cut.

* * *

Martha ran to his room as soon as she heard him, "Clark, I'm here sweetheart. It's okay." 

Suddenly Clark felt himself free his arms from his captors, so he threw them outward in defense. He heard a whoosh and then a thud, followed by a low female moan. His eyes shot open and he glanced in the direction of the noise. He saw his mother in a sitting position against the now cracked wall, with her head lulling forward and her eyes rolling to the back of her head. He was frozen in shock. Shaking.

Seconds later, Jonathan rushed into the room and saw Clark sitting in his bed, wide eyed. He turned his head in the direction Clark was staring and saw Martha. He ran to her side, "Martha! Can you hear me!" He put his hand behind her head, trying to ascertain her injuries. He pulled his hand back and found it covered in blood.

Reality sunk into Clark when he saw his father's bloody hand. He realized that he had escaped his nightmare only to have it replaced by another one of his own creation. He jumped out of the bed, his t-shirt and boxers clinging to his sweat ridden body, "Oh no! Mom!"

Noticing Clark's reaction, Jonathan snapped his head at Clark and in a fit of worry over Martha exclaimed, "What did you do Clark!" Clark blinked in surprise at his father's verbal accusation. He opened his mouth to reply but no words came out.

A moan drew their attention back to Martha. She quietly said, "No…Jonathan, it's not his fault." Jonathan embraced his wife, relieved.

Clark was suddenly overwhelmed by what I _he_ /I had just done and couldn't suppress the inevitable tears. He tore his eyes away from his parents and supersped from his room and down the stairs, not stopping until he reached the porch. The door slammed behind him and he stood at the top of the steps. Normally the coldness of the night would not have affected him but tonight it was bitter. He tried to calm himself down, knowing that he could easily have another panic attack and hyperventilate. Usually it happened after an intense nightmare, much like the one he just had. God, what he would have given to have had a panic attack tonight instead of what did happen.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

A short, stout man wearing small wire rimmed spectacles held out a single gray folder, "Here is this week's events from the Kent project, sir."

Lionel took the folder and began to leaf through its contents. He stopped at several pictures taken from the surveillance cameras he placed on the Kent Farm. The first picture was of Clark lying on the couch in his loft, his anguish and pain written on his features. The second was of Jonathan and Martha huddled in the corner of the den, flushed with anger. The last picture was of Lex handing a small black pager to Clark. Lionel shut the folder, "Good work, David," he turned and walked to his desk and dropped the folder onto it. "Why haven't I received any videos this week?"

"I'm sorry sir, there was a disruption and we lost the feed. I have my top tech's working on it and should have it back up within a few days."

"I want it fixed by tomorrow morning," he said impatiently. "I find Mr. Kent's _dreams_ entertaining. I certainly don't want to miss anymore." Lionel knew that personal fears often came out during dreams. He loved to watch Clark's nightmares. He'd thrash about in his bed and call out against his attackers, but most of all Lionel loved when Clark cried. It showed him he had done enough damage to keep Clark fragile. If his plan was going to work, he needed to be sure Clark was in the right mental state. He needed to know Clark's every move so he could pounce when the time was right.

"Yes sir."

"Good," he paused, "And what about Morgan? Has he been located?"

"Yes sir. Mr. Edge has been taken care of and all loose ends have been tied, as you requested."

Lionel nodded his approval, "Good." He sat down in his chair and looked back at the man standing, "That will be all, David."

David nodded and left the office. Lionel took the pictures from the folder and examined them again. The pictures of the Kent's arguing and an anguished Clark made his lips curl into a sly smile. His plan was working. He was successfully breaking the once content Kent family piece by piece. He put the pictures down and picked up the picture of Lex handing Clark a pager. He stared closely at the small black pager, "What are you up, Lex?" he wondered aloud. He reached for the phone and buzzed his secretary.

"Yes, Mr. Luthor?"

"Susan, stop Mr. Williams before he leaves the building. I wish to speak with him again."

"Yes sir," she replied.

Lionel hung up and waited. Minutes later there was a knock on door and David walked back into the office, "Was there something else you needed, sir?"

Lionel tossed the picture of the Lex and Clark on the edge of his desk. David stepped forward and took the picture, "I want you to make certain my son does not interfere with my plans. Keep him under constant surveillance and I want to be informed of any further contact he has with Mr. Kent."

"Will do sir," with that he left the office again.

Lionel leaned back in his chair and took the picture of Clark on his couch in his hands. "Very soon Mr. Kent. And this time you won't be leaving."

* * *

Martha stood near Clark who was sitting at the breakfast bar eating his eggs. She noticed how consciencious he was as he ate. He was sitting straight up, elbows off the table, eating carefully as to not drop a bit of food onto the table. A knock on the door took her attention away from him and she went to answer it and found Pete standing on the porch, "Hi Pete. Please come in."

"Hi Mrs. Kent," Pete greeted as he walked into the kitchen, "Hey Clark."

He swallowed, "Hey," and continued eating.

"You're still eating! No wonder you're always late for school." Pete teased.

Clark only smiled in response. He still wasn't comfortable with his old 'teasing with Pete' self, but he tried not to let it show. He always did his best to act like the 'normal Clark' around his friends but the truth was he was far from it.

"Pete, would you like some breakfast?" Martha asked, "There's plenty left."

Watching Clark, "No thanks Mrs. Kent, I already ate this morning." He noticed how perfectly Clark was eating. It was completely different than the way he ate at school. At school, Clark would scarf down his meals faster than everyone else. He was never cautious about spilling. In fact, Clark was usually so hungry that he never gave a thought to being a neat eater. But now, at home, he was almost disturbingly careful. Pete looked to Martha with concern and she silently acknowledged his worry and shook her head negatively. Pete walked closer and sat next to Clark who kept his focus on his plate. "Chloe and I are going to be getting the Torch ready for print this afternoon. We were hoping you'd want stay after and help or just hang out. We miss having you around the Torch."

"Thanks Pete but I'm too busy with chores to fit in any school activities right now."

Martha instantly chimed in, "Clark, you're father and I won't mind if you want to stay after today. You should spend time with your friends."

Clark placed his utensils on top of his plate, collected his napkin and glass and began to stand up, "I think it will be a better use of my time to work here. The cows won't feed themselves." He gave her a shy smile and went to the sink and began to wash his dishes.

"Why don't you let me do those?" Martha said motioning to the dishes, "You need to go to school."

"It's okay Mom, they are my dishes, I'll wash them."

Pete concealed his disappointment that Clark didn't want to spend the afternoon with he and Chloe, "Well, I'm driving to school today. You want a ride?"

Clark kept his attention on his dishes as he washed them over and over, "Okay, thanks Pete." He continued carefully scrubbing his plate, making certain it was perfectly clean.

Martha looked despondent at Pete and he took her cue, "We need to get going. We don't want Principal Reynolds on our case for being late."

Clark sighed and scrubbed the dish one last time, "Okay," he grabbed the towel and began drying them.

Martha took the cloth from him and gave him a reassuring smile, "You better get to school." Clark's eyes flickered to his wet dishes. Martha put the towel down, took his hands in hers and leaned up to kiss his cheek, "Its okay sweetheart. I'll finish up here."

Clark smiled and gave her a hug, "I'll help you with the laundry this afternoon," he said to make up for not finishing his dishes. He walked behind Pete to the door, took his backpack off the hook and slung it over his shoulder. "Bye mom."

* * *

Aside from the work out equipment, the gym in the Luthor mansion looked nothing like a gym. It had mahogany paneled walls, stained glass windows, leather furniture, and bookcases filled expensive artifacts. It resembled Lex's study but a weight machine, elliptical machine, and a space for yoga replaced the desk and pool table. Lex, clad in his sweats and headphones, was working up a heavy sweat on his elliptical machine.

His head of security knocked on the door and then entered. Lex nodded to him and he waited patiently while Lex turned off the machine and stepped down. Lex grabbed a white towel and wiped the sweat from his neck and face while he walked to the mini refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Tynant. He took a few swigs of the blue bottled water as the man spoke, "Excuse me for interrupting Mr. Luthor, but I wanted to inform you that Clark Kent has arrived at Smallville High safely. He's currently in second period, European History."

Lex placed his water on a table as walked back to his elliptical machine, "Thank you. Inform me when he arrives home." The man nodded and left quietly. Lex stepped up and resumed his daily work out. He was pleased that his men were doing their job well and more importantly, discretely. The last thing he wanted was for Clark to find out he had men watching him. He wasn't doing it for information or to discover anything about Clark. He didn't intrude on his privacy when Clark was in his barn or house. He ordered his men to merely watch him when he left home, so he could be sure that he was safe. Lex didn't have proof but he knew in his gut that Clark was the 'special kid' that Logan had told him about. It made him sick to think of his father doing whatever it was he did to Clark and he wasn't about to sit back and let his father get away with it again. If Lionel tried anything, Lex was going to be there to stop him.

* * *

The Smallville County School bus lumbered to a stop in front of the Kent's house. Clark sat alone on the vinyl bench seat. Both Chloe and Pete had driven to school today because they needed to stay after to work at the Torch. Clark was feeling a degree of contentment these days, but still he wasn't ready to take on any after-school projects. He always felt the intense responsibility to go immediately home to help with the upkeep of the farm. He usually worked way past dark or until his mother would drag him back inside for dinner and homework. He promised himself that he would never be a burden to his parents, no matter what. He needed this life and he vowed to do everything in his power to ensure he was a perfect son.

He stared out the window, deep in thought when Mrs. Willows, the school bus driver turned around and shouted, "Clark hon, this is your stop."

Clark looked up, blinked and gathered his coat and backpack, "Thanks Mrs. Willows" he shot her his famous Kent grin.

"You're welcome, hon. Don't be late again tomorrow, I can't wait for you like I've done before. I'm gonna get into trouble!"

"Yes ma'am" he yelled back as he headed through the gate towards his house. He noticed his dad's coat hanging over the side of the fence when he was halfway to the house and turned his direction to the barn. He kept his head lowered as he walked but quickly reprimanded himself for outwardly appearing withdrawn. He got closer to the barn and consciously decided to raise his head, look straight ahead and put on a smile. "Hi dad!" he said, cheerfully.

"Hey son...how was school?" Jonathan kept his attention on the tractor he was working on and Clark sighed. Ever since he returned home three months ago, his dad barely spoke to him other than formalities and he hardly ever looked him in the eyes.

Clark cleared his throat, "It was good, really good today. I think I aced the math quiz," he said with his smile still intact. Jonathan nodded his head "Dad, what can I help you with? Do you want me to give the tractor a lift?"

Jonathan briefly hesitated from his task, then continued on working "I'll give you a shout if I need your help, son."

Clark's smile crumbled and he took a deep breath, "Ok then, I'm going to head to the house to see if Mom needs any help" Jonathan nodded and Clark headed to the house, picking up his dad's coat off the fence along the way. He brought it into the house and hung it up on the hook. He never missed a chance to pay attention to the little details that would surely matter to his parents. "Mom! I'm home!"

Martha came down the stairs with a laundry basket full of clothes, "Hi sweetheart! You look happy, did you have a good day?"

Clark rushed over to take the basket from his mother's hands and noticed with a frown that he accidentally left his backpack on the floor. He hesitated, unsure of what to do, but decided to leave it in the hopes that it wouldn't bother his mother for the quick minute it would be on the floor. His breathing hitched ever so slightly at the errant thought that she would be displeased with him. He continued to smile, "Where do you want this?" he asked taking the basket from her hands.

She noticed his quick display of emotions and frowned, "Clark, you don't have to kill yourself over helping us out. This is your home too."

He only smiled, "Umm, where do you want this basket? Do you want me to fold them and put them away for you?"

"No sweetheart, why don't you run outside for me and get the mail. Then come to the kitchen and have some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk." She smiled.

"Ok mom and umm, thank you for that...I mean thank you for bak..."

She reached up to caress his cheek, "Clark, it's ok baby. Now why don't you go get the mail?"

"Sure mom." He said, giving her a slight smile. He left the laundry basket on the couch in the living room, picked up his backpack from the floor and hung it up on the spare hook then walked outside to get the mail. He made a mental note to try not to be so obvious when offering to help; his mom was definitely on to him. He noticed his dad was still working on the tractor and he stopped himself from going over there to offer more help. He took a deep, cleansing breath and practiced his smile in the hopes it would improve his mood. He walked to the end of the dirt driveway with a smile on his face. When he reached the mailbox he noticed it was stuffed tightly with letters and a small package wedged all the way inside. He gave the package a tug and the letters popped out and landed on the ground. He quickly bent down to retrieve them as he looked around to make sure his parents didn't see him make that mistake. He gathered the bundle of mail up in his hands, putting the letters on top of the small package. He walked back to the house and flipped through all the letters noticing that most of them were bills and a couple of useless ads. He sighed at the stack of bills his parents would have to pay; wishing he could alleviate their financial woes.

When he flipped over the last letter and the package came into view. It was a small brown package, neatly wrapped with twine and addressed to him. 'Clark Kent' was written in calligraphy with no address under his name nor a return address at the top. His curiosity peaked as he came up to the house. He climbed to the top of the porch stairs and sat down to open his package. He untied the twine and ripped the top open. He let the contents fall into his hand, one picture and a brief note. He turned the picture over and his face blanched; it was a picture of two vials of blood and three sections of skin on petri dishes, all labeled with his name. His heart began to pound out of his chest and his breathing hitched. He dropped the picture to the ground and shakily opened the note. His eyes were becoming blurry so he blinked several times to clear his vision and read the note. It read, "Did you really think that I was careless enough to leave all the samples in the building? Don't begin to feel relaxed yet Mr. Kent, it won't be much longer." The note was signed with a simple "L"

The note fell from his shaking hands and fluttered like a butterfly to the ground. His breaths became deep and labored. He wheezed rapidly and knew he was hyperventilating…again. He quickly tucked his head between his legs and in the process knocked the mail down the flight of stairs. He called out as loudly as he could but only managed a whisper between his heaved breaths, "Mom!" His last thought before he tumbled head first down the stairs into oblivion was that he hoped his parents weren't going to be mad that he dropped the mail.


	5. Chapter 4

Thank you all so much for your reviews! Rumpuso and I really appreciate it. ENJOY!

* * *

Chapter 4

_He's coming back! My God, he's going to hurt me again. I can't handle the pain anymore. Mom, Dad, please still love me enough to hide me. I'm so scared. Don't be so mad anymore. I want your love. I'm so alone. Pete, Chloe, Lana…Lex. Where did my friends go? Why can't I feel whole again? Sleep…need to sleep…so tired of worrying…of being afraid. Mommy, Daddy…hold me. Oh my God! I must have dropped the mail. I've ruined everything!_

_

* * *

_

Martha was coming down the front staircase when she thought she heard a crashing noise from outside. She walked to the screen door and called, "Clark?" wondering if he heard the crash too. He was outside getting the mail. The door squeaked as she opened it and gazed across the yard to the barn. The porch floorboards creaked as she stepped onto them. She looked down and found Clark face down on the ground at the bottom of the steps. She screamed out, "Clark!" thundered down the stairs and called out again, "Jonathan! Hurry! It's Clark!"

Jonathan came running from the barn just as Pete's car pulled up the driveway. Jonathan reached them, "Martha, what happened!"

"I don't know! I heard a crashing sound and found him like this."

In their frantic state, neither Jonathan nor Martha heard Pete drive up in his car. They seemed startled when he spoke. "What happened? Is he hurt?" They briefly glanced at each other before turning their attention back on Clark.

"Should we turn him over, Jonathan! What if he's hurt and shouldn't be moved!"

Jonathan carefully checked over Clark. He didn't appear to have any injuries and there were no signs of kryptonite near, "Pete, help me turn him over." They cautiously rolled Clark onto his back as Martha brushed his sweat clumped bangs away from his forehead.

Pete noticed a picture lying face up that had been hidden under Clark. He picked the picture up and his face showed confusion. It was what looked like vials of blood and petri dishes with something in them. But what caught Pete's eye was the name that labeled each - _Clark Kent._ He stared at the picture, dumbfounded. What did this mean? Why would Clark have a picture of this? Why would there even be a picture of this?

Clark let out a quiet moan and put his hand to his head as he opened his eyes, "Mom?"

"I'm here baby," Martha spoke soothingly to him as she helped him into a sitting position. He put his head in his hands, trying to regain his bearings.

Pete held out the picture, "Umm, I found this picture. I don't know what it means, but it's strange."

Jonathan took the picture from his hand and inhaled sharply when he saw it. He looked away and saw a piece of paper lying amongst the mail. He picked it up and silently read, _'Did you really think that I was careless enough to leave all the samples in the building? Don't begin to feel relaxed yet Mr. Kent, it won't be much longer.'_ Jonathan's face flushed beet red with anger as he realized the reason for Clark's distress. His breathing deepened and he crumpled the note in his hand and dropped it to the ground.

Clark saw the balled up note land beside him and he looked up to find his father angrily looking at the picture. He practically jumped from the ground and snatched it from his father's hand, "No! That's mine!" His equilibrium was still off and as he took hold of the picture he stumbled and would have fallen if Pete had not caught him. He pushed Pete away and gave him a 'back off' look. He grabbed the railing and went up a few steps before Martha was at his side trying to calm him. He stopped, leaned against the railing and held the picture to his chest. He kept his eyes fixed on the step ahead of him as he tried to calm his breathing.

Martha looked from Jonathan to Pete, trying to find a solution for the chaos transpiring before her. There was an eerie silence amongst them until Martha spoke, "Pete, would you mind coming back tomorrow? We'll take care of Clark and I'll have him call you later." Pete hesitated before nodding okay and Martha helped Clark up the remaining stairs and into the kitchen.

Pete began walking back to his car but turned back in confusion when he heard Jonathan say furiously, "I will not let that man destroy this family any longer!" He stopped for a moment and then got into his car. He didn't want to leave. He'd never seen Clark so unsettled before. He'd especially never seen him pass out or look as ill as he did without the effects of kryptonite near. He sat with his hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead, trying to make sense of what he just witnessed.

With the help of Martha, Clark went straight to his bedroom to lie down. He climbed the stairs with one hand on the railing and one hand clinging tightly to the picture. He told himself that if he hadn't been so weak then he wouldn't have passed out. He felt ashamed that he caused such a ruckus outside and that he once again made his father angry. He knew they would want to talk about the picture and note. They'd want to figure out a plan. Confront Lionel. And he knew it needed to be dealt with but it was terrifying and he did not want to acknowledge the danger that now lurked before him. The note said it all, Lionel was planning to take him again.

Martha helped him onto his bed then pried the picture from his death grip and told him everything would be okay. She didn't look at the picture until she reached the bottom of the stairs. She turned it over and put her hand to her mouth to cover her gasp. She closed her eyes and held in her tears for her son. Months of trying to recover and move on from what happened only to have it shoved cruelly back in his face. It was almost too much for her to bear; she couldn't imagine what he must be going through. She took a deep breath and walked into the living room where Jonathan was pacing. "Jonathan?" she said quietly.

He stopped momentarily and quickly looked at her before continuing his pacing. The small glance was enough for her to see his fury. "What did the note say?" she asked. He had picked it up before he came inside and still held it clenched in his fist. She took it from his outstretched hand and quickly read it. Her voice was tight with worry, "What are we going to do?"

He sighed in frustration, "I don't know. But I am not going to let him get away with this."

Martha wanted nothing more than to make Lionel pay for what he did to her child but she knew they couldn't do anything. They didn't have the money or power to stop him. And she knew Jonathan's temper on the matter wasn't going to help either so she tried to bring his focus on Pete, until he was able to calm down. "What about Pete? He's going to want to know what happened. He saw the picture." She paused, "Maybe we should tell him. I think it will be good for Clark to have a friend to help him through this."

He sat down on the couch and rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. He let out a deep breath; "He's handled knowing Clark's secret well, I suppose it wouldn't do any harm by telling him."

There was a knock on the door so Martha went to answer it. "Oh, Pete," she said, not so surprised that he didn't leave.

"I'm sorry to interrupt Mrs. Kent, but Clark is like a brother to me and I can't just leave after what I saw. I know he's going through something big and I want to be here for him."

She smiled, "Come on in, sweetie," he followed her into the living room and she ushered him to the couch. Jonathan stood to greet Pete and then sat in the chair next to the couch. Pete sat down, followed by Martha. She placed her hand on his knee and said, "Pete, Clark didn't run away to Metropolis the second time. He was kidnapped by Lionel Luthor…"

* * *

Pete stood from his seat with a heavy sigh. He had just been told that his best friend had been kidnapped, tortured, and nearly killed by the same man that so many years ago screwed his family over. "Umm, do you think it'd be okay if I go talk to him?"

Martha gave Pete a weary smile and hug, "I think that would be good." Pete smiled back and left the room. She watched him disappear up the staircase and silently prayed that Pete would be able to help Clark open up more. It scared her that he was keeping so much inside and what it might do to him if he didn't get it out.

Jonathan became agitated even further after Martha had told Pete everything. Hearing the words and watching Pete's horrified expression added fuel to his ever growing fire of fury. After Pete left he got up from his chair and began pacing again.

"Jonathan," she drew his attention back to her and clasped his hands within hers, "you need to calm down. I'm worried for Clark and he is going to need us to help him through this."

"I was supposed to protect him. I'm his father and I just sat back and did nothing." His voice was mixed in guilt and anger, "I promise you and Clark that I _will not_ let anything happen to him again."

"Maybe we should talk to the police."

He began pacing again, his eyes were filled with anguish, "No. No…we can't go to the police without running the risk of Clark's secret being exposed. I'm responsible for this mess. I'm responsible for Clark's safety and I'll be the one to handle this."

"Handle what?" she asked, worrying about his intentions, "What are you thinking of doing?"

He stopped again and took her in his arms. He gave her a kiss and put his hands on her shoulders, "No matter what, I won't allow Clark to be hurt again." Without another word he walked to the door and grabbed his coat and keys.

Martha was directly behind him, "Jonathan, what are you planning to do? Where are you going?" He only stopped to give her one last look, determination in his eyes, before closing the door behind him. Martha followed him onto the porch and then watched as he took off in the truck.

* * *

Pete gave Clark's bedroom door a gentle knock, "Clark, its Pete. Can I come in?"

"I'd rather be alone right now. I'll talk to you later," his voice was emotionless.

Pete opened the door slightly and poked his head inside. Clark was standing by the window, "Clark?" he said as he entered the room.

"My dad just left…again. I should go after him but he probably doesn't want to see me right now."

Pete walked closer to him, "I know what happened. Your parents told me what you've been through," Clark stiffened, but kept his gaze out the window. Pete sighed, "I don't know what to say, man."

"It's okay, Pete."

Clark's voice was so impassive that if Pete hadn't just found out the truth he would have never guessed he was an emotional mess. Clark turned around to face Pete slowly. His voice may have covered his true feelings but his eyes held every ounce of fear and pain he had. Yet Pete was shocked to see such resignation on Clark's face.

"I need to go finish up my dad's chores," he began walking towards the door.

Pete stood in his path, "Clark, I think you should stay inside right now. The chores can wait."

"I can't stop living, Pete." He lowered his head and quietly said, "Maybe it's for the best anyway. I'm nothing but a burden to my parents. They argue all the time, the farm is suffering and it's my fault." He looked back up and Pete noticed a deep sorrow in his eyes.

It became clear to Pete that his friend has suffered more than he ever imagined. It broke his heart to hear what had happened but looking into Clark's eyes told him he was suffering significantly. Pete wanted nothing more than to help him but he didn't know how. He was at a loss for words and before he could find the right thing to say, Clark gave him a brief nod and walked around him and out of the room.

* * *

The security guard sat, bored, in the small surveillance room, absently turning the pages of his magazine, paying no attention to the contents when a red truck pulled up and screeched to a halt at the gates. He set his magazine down and peered closer at the monitor.

The man got from his truck, slammed the door shut and walked to the gate. He pressed the intercom buzzer several times and yelled, "Lex! Open the gate! Now!"

The security guard's voice came through Jonathan's side of the intercom, "Sir, Mr. Luthor is in a meeting and is not to be disturbed. I suggest you come back at a-"

Jonathan pressed the button and yelled back before the man could finish, "I will not come back! Open the gate now!" He grabbed the gate and began shaking it furiously and continued to shout, "Lex! Open the gate!"

"Sir, please stop shaking the gates!" realizing the man wasn't going to be reasoned with the guard buzzed Lex.

"I'm in a meeting," Lex was annoyed.

"I'm sorry to interrupt Mr. Luthor but it's important that I speak with you. We may be experiencing a security breech and I need your advice on how to proceed."

A sigh was heard before, "Okay. Meet me in the hall outside my office." Lex apologized and politely excused himself from his meeting. In the hallway he found the guard waiting for him, "There better be an army storming the gates."

"It's Jonathan Kent, sir. He's shaking the gate and demanding to see you."

Lex's expression instantly changed from irritated to concerned. An angry Jonathan Kent visiting _him_ could not be a good thing. "Let him in. I'll be in my library."

"Yes," he nodded and walked briskly back down the hall.

Lex entered his office. The two men waiting for him stood as he walked up. "Gentlemen, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to cut this meeting short. An emergency has come up that requires my attention. I'll have my secretary call and reschedule."

"Not a problem, Mr. Luthor." he shook Lex's hand and gave him his business card.

The men quietly left and Lex went straight to the library. Just a few minutes later Jonathan charged through the door and at Lex. He grabbed him by his collar and shoved him back again the wall. "You and your father have gone too far!"

Lex's personal security guard instantly pulled Jonathan from his grasp on Lex and held him by his arms. Lex adjusted his shirt and rubbed his neck. "Let him go, Darius. Wait outside."

"Sir, I really think I should stay."

"Go." Jonathan pulled his arms free as Lex escorted Darius out the door. He turned back, trying to remain compassionate, but he wanted answers, "Mr. Kent, I don't know what you think I did, but I assure you, I am in no way involved with any of my father's dealings and I'd like to know what I'm being accused of." Jonathan glared at him and Lex realized for Jonathan to behave like this something was definitely not right, "Is Clark okay?"

"Your friendship with my son has caused nothing but trouble for my family!" he raged. Lex tried to understand why Jonathan has suddenly decided to voice his opinion of his friendship with Clark. He was about to ask when Jonathan spoke again, "Tell me where you father is! Where can I find him!"

"As far as I know he's in Metropolis, either at his office at LuthorCorp plaza or his penthouse. Why do you want to know?"

Jonathan only answered in a nod and began to leave. With his hand on the doorknob he turned back to huff one last time, "I don't want to see you on my property again. Leave my son alone! He doesn't need the Luthor brand of friendship any longer!" He slammed the door behind him as he left.

Lex couldn't help but feel hurt by Jonathan's accusations. He would never do anything to hurt Clark and he'd always gone out of his way to be a good friend. Something bad must have happened for Jonathan to react like the way he did. Something must have happened that pointed toward Lex. Or Lionel. Lex thought again of the conversation he had with Logan in that shabby motel so many months ago. Logan said, _I'm a part of his contingent who are called in when special services are required on the QT. I was brought in to provide the medical care necessary to keep this individual alive…he's an innocent kid, caught up in an act so heinous that I could no longer bear to be associated with it."_

"What are you up to, dad?"

* * *

"Ah, David. Do you have the video?" Lionel asked as he stood from his office chair.

"Yes sir," he held out a black videotape and gray folder of the latest report of the Kent household. "I think you're going to be pleased; things are moving along nicely."

"Good. Very good," he said with a smirk of satisfaction as he took the tape and folder. He placed the folder on his desk then walked to a wall cabinet and opened it. He put the tape into a VCR and turned the television on. The tape began playing video footage of Clark. He walked up the stairs, mail and package in hand, and sat on the top step. Lionel watched, a smirk beginning to form, as Clark opened the package. His eyes went wide and his chest started pumping. Lionel's smirk grew. He watched Clark as he began to hyperventilate and weakly called out for his mom before he passed out and fell down the steps. Lionel looked to David, grinning his approval, then he looked back. Shortly after he passed out Martha found him. Then Jonathan came running up, followed by Pete. Lionel kept his eyes on the screen as he spoke, "Have someone watch the Ross boy. Make sure he doesn't spoil my plans." David nodded and Lionel kept his focus on the screen as Clark woke up. He saw the picture and snatched it from his fathers grip. Lionel's smile grew larger. He pushed his friend away and left, nervously holding the picture to his chest. The Kent family went inside and Pete got in his car. Lionel turned the monitor off and turned towards David, "I think we are ready to proceed with the plan. Have my next _gift_ delivered immediately."

"Yes sir," David answered before leaving quietly.

Lionel sat back down in his chair and leaned back. He took his newest report in his hand and began looking through Clark's latest developments. He knew his plan was going to work and he was pleased with himself that everything had gone accordingly. Soon enough he would have _his_ possession back and would be able to continue his research. His team of specialists had made remarkable strides with the amount of blood they had but would soon need more. Lionel could not take the risk of not gaining more samples. His life depended on it. Literally.

* * *

Clark dumped the dirty water out and put the bucket and sponge back in their places. He stood back and took a look at the now spotless tractor; he'd never seen it look so good. He then looked over at his dad's tool corner. Each tool was hung on its hook, the floor was swept and everything was in order. He hoped his dad would be happy that he had done both their chores and cleaned the tractor as well. Jonathan hadn't been home since his sudden departure after this afternoon's events and Clark felt satisfied that things were in tiptop shape for his return. He only hoped Jonathan would notice what he did and would forget the burden Clark was causing him.

He checked his watch; it had been about an hour since Pete left. He felt badly that Pete was upset but he really just wanted to be alone. He wasn't ready to share the detailed horrors of his ordeal with Pete, or anyone really. He was embarrassed that so much had been taken from him already and now it looked as if circumstances were setting up for another blow. He sighed and took one last glance at his work then decided to go inside for a shower. He walked back to the house and noticed his mom tending to the vegetable garden. She had on a large straw hat and her gardening gloves. He smiled. He knew she felt solace in gardening and was happy that she could do so after what happened today. He didn't want to interrupt her private time so he kept on to the house.

He stopped at the door and diligently wiped his shoes on the welcome mat before entering. He took a quick glance around the downstairs to see if there was anything that needed to be cleaned or straightened before he took a shower. He smiled because the house looked immaculate and he just knew his parents would feel he was indispensable since he helped keep such a nice home.

He started up the stairs and began to feel the increasing pull of lethargy as he got closer to his bedroom. He opened his door and slowly went to sit on the edge of the bed to remove his boots. He began to feel nauseated as he sat down. He thought that he must have been more exhausted than he realized from the emotional turmoil and extra chores today. He kicked his boots off and as he stood to put them away, a wave of dizziness washed over him. He sat back down and wiped the sweat from his brow. Once the dizziness passed he scooped his boots back up and proceeded to his closet to put them away. He felt his knees begin to buckle as he reached his closet door and he wondered what was wrong with him. Why did he feel so exhausted and dizzy? He opened the closet door and immediately stumbled backwards until he his legs hit his bed. His mouth hung open and his eyes went wide. His boots fell from his grip and landed with a thud next to him. Almost as if his knees gave way, he slid down the side of his bed onto the floor and pulled them to his chest.

There hanging from a rope in between his flannel shirts was a note tied securely to a baseball-sized piece of meteor rock. He squinted at it as it glowed a brilliant green. He hugged his legs tighter as he stared in disbelief at the swinging rock. After a minute he gathered up his strength and rose to his feet slowly, trying to steady himself against the bed. He stumbled forward a few steps to the closet and took a deep breath and held it. He reached his hand toward the note and gripped the edges with his fingers, all the while trying to avoid making contact with the rock itself. He shook from the force of the pain and his veins pulsated green up his arm. He held firmly and pulled hard on the note to dislodge it from the rope and rock. He fell backwards onto his butt and quickly crept back, away from the closet. Once he was a good distance away and felt well enough to stand he left the room as quickly as he could. He closed his door behind him and leaned against it with a heavy exhale.

Clark's stomach started to twist. He dashed to the bathroom, locked the door and fell to his knees at the toilet. He heaved twice before his stomach spilled into the bowl. The onslaught was fierce and he gasped for air between each retch until finally it stopped and he leaned back to catch his breath. Then he rose up to the sink and with a shaking hand he placed the crumbled note on the counter and splashed his face with cold water. He wiped his face and hands with a towel and picked up the note. He closed his eyes tight and took a deep breath, trying to find the courage he needed to read it. He finally let out his breath and opened it. He was shaking so hard he couldn't focus on the note so he clenched his muscles and held it firmly in place. It read, _"There isn't anywhere you will be safe. Five more days, Clark."_ and was signed with an 'L' just as the previous note. Clark leaned against the wall and sunk to the floor again as he stared the note. He pulled his knees to his chest once again and rocked. He repeated the notes contents in his head and it dawned on him that he was being watched, everywhere. His eyes shot suspiciously around the small bathroom and he wondered if they saw him now. He shoved the note in his pocket as his stomach lurched again as he thought about might happen in 'five days'. He crawled on his hands and knees as quickly as he could manage and he threw up once again in the toilet.


	6. Announcement

Okay...um, here's the deal.

I hate to be the bearer of bad news but Conquered is going to be 'shelved' for a while. I have become immediately inspired to write a new fiction idea and I want to work on it while its fresh. And to be completely honest, I've had a really hard time writing Conquered. I've found myself stuck and I can't get anything down because this new fiction is in the forefront of my mind.

I really do love this fic and I don't want to see it abandoned. I'm hoping that I'll be able to come back at some point and finish it but I won't make any guarantees.

I'm sorry and I really hope you all understand.

-Sarah


End file.
